20140122

Bob Heman

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The story of stories was the story she was told. It was the story of language and the story of dreams. It was the story of the journey we all must make without ever being asked to decide. She remembered it when her own story ended.

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In my dream she wanted me to go with her parents to the "Jackie Chan Chinese Opera." She was Chinese then, but wasn't when I first met her at a poetry reading that turned into a dance.

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Love is where the hats end, where the ocean begins, where the tree is rearranged.

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There were wings in the story when it arrived. There was a woman who touched her nose when she prayed and a flight of stairs that no longer worked. There was a cat that had no windows.

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Where the trees gathered. Where the machines hid. Where the animals all wore masks.

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There were snakes tangled with each other he was trying to untangle. He wasn’t sure yet why he wanted to do this but the snakes weren’t pleased. They struggled in his hands but didn’t seem to have heads or tails that he could see. He was the only one in the room or garden. What he was doing became very important.

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They will not eat the sandwiches the dog licked. They will not return to the place they were told to leave. There were different explanations but none of them contained enough language. We do know they might have been useful in other situations.

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Thinks that the city has been repaired, that the bears have been adjusted. Thinks that the woman’s wings can be reattached. Thinks that there is more sound than they can use. Thinks that the binoculars will not help.

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The east river is not a river but the west river is.

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There was in the story another story that told the story of a man who could not escape from the story in which he had been placed. It was too linear to allow him to change direction or even imagine that he could. The bears and frogs and bees he found all had to be there. They were never allowed to speak.

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They become only what is left over, only what is always different, only what cannot be repeated. Sometimes there is a word or number or color that explains it all. Sometimes there is only a boat that has no place to go.

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Waits for the words to arrive, but there are no words, only birds circling around, large birds, gulls, too far inland to be normal, as if fleeing the storm the words would certainly bring if they ever could be found.